


Circuit Board to Brain

by TeuthidaRegina



Category: HLVRAI - Fandom, Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware
Genre: Canon Divergent, It's an AU but I haven't named it yet, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25120063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeuthidaRegina/pseuds/TeuthidaRegina
Summary: Gordon Freeman's name isn't Gordon Freeman. His passport says his name is John Doe, but that just doesn't feel right. Nothing's felt right since the game ended.Oh, and he can use the Black Mesa Sweet Voice now. And his teeth are getting sharper. And he's needing to eat and sleep less and less. And nobody will explain what the hell is happening to him.
Comments: 38
Kudos: 206





	1. Teal to Jade Means I'm Surprised and Afraid

Gordon ripped off the VR headset with a gasp. He sat there for a minute, trying to compose himself. The room was dark, and quiet. Silence was weird, after Black Mesa; he found himself straining to listen for gunfire, or explosions, or someone shouting at him. Noisy game, especially with the AI. Game. AI. He latched onto those words, closing his eyes. Just a game. Just a game.

He opened his eyes, standing up. He had dropped the controllers at some point, and he carefully stepped over them, straining to see in the dark. He ran his hand through his hair, half-surprised to find it shorter than he expected. Maybe he should grow it out. Though hopefully, he would stop expecting to have a ponytail by the time his hair was long enough for one. He fumbled for the light switch- it had been daylight when he put on the headset, how long had he been playing for?- and switched it on. 

His room was a cluttered mess. He hadn’t cleaned it lately; his life since he started the game had been a blur. He’d stopped playing only when the need to eat or sleep or use the bathroom was too much to ignore, and he felt like he was sleepwalking when he did those things. He certainly hadn’t taken the time to tidy his apartment. God, he hated to imagine what the kitchen must look like, after making sandwiches in a half-conscious daze for… for… he counted up the clothing scattered on the floor. Assuming he had never worn the same outfit for a frankly disgusting amount of time (and that was a big if) he’d been playing for… about a week. 

That was a long time to play a video game, his mind helpfully supplied. That couldn’t be right. Then again, it felt pretty close to what he had experienced. To what Gordon had experienced. He wasn’t Gordon Freeman. He was… hm. He was… he wasn’t Gordon Freeman. The name would come to him eventually. The game was over. He’d gotten a little, just a little, too into character, but he’d be fine in a minute. He’s gotten into character more intensely than he intended before. ...Never played the same game for a week straight and forgotten his own name before, but. Uh. Wow, VR sure is intense, huh? He’s pretty sure it’s normal. He’s just going to go ahead and never check if anybody else has had any similar experiences, he’s so sure it’s normal.

His eyes slowly gravitated back towards his computer. He hadn’t turned the game off.  _ Atom by atom.  _ He shuddered. He wasn’t turning the game off. Not until he got the Science Team out. ...Would be nice if he had any idea how that would work. He took a deep breath, trying not to panic at the thought of them being trapped forever. Just AI, he reminded himself. ...Self-aware AI that clearly understood pain, fear, and loneliness, so leaving them didn’t sit right with him either way. 

Deep breaths. Stay calm. He’d keep the game running. It wouldn’t hurt to leave them for a few hours if he kept the game running, right? He just needed to eat and sleep before coming back to this problem. Probably brush his teeth and take a shower too, he felt  _ gross. _ He left his room, trying to remember where the bathroom was. His apartment felt stranger and less familiar than Black Mesa had. He caught a glimpse of the kitchen out of the corner of his eye; thank God he hadn’t tried making anything that needed to be cooked, he probably would have burned down the whole building. As it was, he didn’t look forward to cleaning that up. Whatever. He’ll deal with it whenever he ate next, so he guesses he was never eating again.

Focus. Find the bathroom. Ah, there it was. He stumbled inside, freezing when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and thought for a split second that it was a stranger. He wanted to scoff at himself for failing the mirror test, but he just couldn’t stop staring. His face was… he doesn’t know. It doesn’t look real? It’s too… high-res-

What the hell is he talking about? It was like a switch flipped in his brain as he leaned back from his reflection, feeling suddenly like an idiot. Of course his face is high-res. Of course he doesn’t look like a character model from goddamn Half-Life. He’s. Not. Gordon. Freeman. He  _ really  _ needs a break. He shook his head, reaching for his toothbrush. 

He thinks his teeth may be sharper than he remembers. As he moves his toothbrush to the other side of his mouth, he absently sticks in a finger, rubbing it against a molar. The edges feel kinda pointy. He thinks they’re normally like this, though? His expertise is more theoretical physics (no it isn’t) than dentistry, but molars are like. The grinding teeth, aren’t they? They’re still relatively flat, but the edges are almost as sharp as his canines. He presses his finger down harder, a drop of blood welling up on the pad. 

That startles himself enough to realize that he’s dropped his toothbrush at some point, his mouth still full of toothpaste foam. He spits it out and rinses his mouth, teeth all but forgotten. He’s clearly going insane. He mentally shifts getting some sleep up a couple spaces on his priority list. He might as well shower while he’s in the bathroom though. He’ll sleep better when he doesn’t have a week’s worth of sweat and dirt caked on.

He turns on the water, peeling off the hoodie and sweatpants his brain insists should be an HEV suit. He steps into the shower, immediately flinching as he realizes how cold the water is. He scrambles out from the spray with a curse, wishing he’d waited for the water to warm up. He closed his eyes with a sigh. On impulse, he sang quietly to himself. Nothing with clear melody or coherent words, just a quiet tone sliding aimlessly around the scales. It was grounding, comforting somehow. 

The water heater had finally kicked in. He stepped back under the spray; after a week of living in VR, a hot shower was heavenly. He kept singing to himself, feeling better with every second. For a couple minutes, he could forget about Black Mesa, about the Science Team, about Benrey, about playing a character so thoroughly he forgot his own name. At some point, he opened his eyes and abruptly stopped singing. Softly glowing blue orbs hung in the air, fading away as he watched. 

He stared until the last one vanished into the steam clouding the air. His mouth was hanging open in shock. That was the Black Mesa Sweet Voice™. That was… what? How? That’s not even… what? He felt his head, half-expecting to find that his VR headset was still on. Nope. Just his face. That isn’t even how it worked, it’s not like he could even do the sweet voice when he was playing, it was just kind of a Benrey thing. Hesitant, he tried to sing. A few bubbles of teal, shifting to jade, popped out of his mouth. They hung there for a moment before disappearing, and his next attempts at the sweet voice came out as nothing but sound.

He stood there, processing, until the water began to turn cold. ...He may have bigger problems than moving some AI out of a game.


	2. Benrey's Helpful and Pigs are Flying

Gordon woke up in his bed, splayed out like a starfish. He blinked sleepily, considering the merits of going back to sleep. The last thing he remembered with any clarity was taking a shower, and... the sweet voice. Right. The memory startled him to alertness. 

He sat up, swinging himself off the bed. He batted at his hair with a brush, trying to think of a plan. This was Benrey’s fault. That much seemed obvious. How, exactly, it was Benrey’s fault was hard to explain, but come on. Would anybody else but Benrey be responsible for this? It simplified things a bit, to have a solid idea of why this was happening (nothing more than a guess, really, but if that’s all he had then he would cling to it like it was driftwood in the middle of the ocean). It did, however, bring up the question of how on earth he was going to convince Benrey to cut it out. 

First things first, however, he was going to get the Science Team out of the game. He panicked a bit, seeing his computer screen dark, but it had only gone to sleep. The game was still open. They were okay. Probably. It took him several minutes to figure out how to open the game’s code, and once he had that, he couldn’t do much more than stare. He had pretty much no background in coding (He thinks? His name is only one of the many things he can’t remember about his life), but he doubts it would be helpful if he had. He can’t understand a thing this code is doing, or even guess the programming language it’s written in. Parts of it are actually changing as he watches, updating itself as it runs. 

...He’s understood for some time that this experimental copy of the game had made a few more changes than making it VR-compatible and making the AI talkative. Knowing that the code had to be complex, and being confronted with that incomprehensible code, were two different things. He leaned back with a groan of misery, already considering giving up. “Hey. What are you doing.” He froze. Oh, no. 

“Benrey?” He said cautiously, looking around. When he heard the voice again, he realized it was coming from his computer’s speakers. 

“Yeah, that’s me. Did you forget my name, idiot. Wow I can’t believe that we were friends, Feetman. That really hurts.”

He grit his teeth. “That’s- that’s not even close to my  _ name.  _ It’s… it’s… I don’t remember my real name.”

“Check your passport. Idiot.”

“THAT- oh. That’s actually a good idea.” He stood, starting to rummage around the drawers and shelves of his room. Eventually, he found himself with a passport in hand. He took a deep breath, nervous for no apparent reason, and opened it. “...My name is John.”

“John Freeman?”

“No. John Doe.” 

“BBBBBB. That’s stupid. Idiot name. What’s the point if I can’t even call you Feetman.”

Gord- John sat down at his computer with a sigh, giving up. (He shouldn’t be thinking of himself as Gordon. He had a name now, a real one for a real person.) “Whatever, man. I just want to get the Science Team out.” He stared at the screen for a moment, at the code that hurt his brain to look at. 

“Do you. Uh. Know what you’re doing?

“No. But I’ll figure it out.” Worst case scenario, he could just take the entire code and… move it. Somewhere. 

“Oh cool cool. Just kill our friends messing around with their code, that’s cool.”

“They’re not OUR friends.” Gordon (John! Damn it!) snapped, trying to hide his alarm at the thought of losing the Science Team to his own incompetence. “Why do you even care? We killed you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Benrey said, clearly not listening. Another window pops up on the screen. If he had thought the game code was bizarre… the text filling this window didn’t have a single character that stayed constant from second to second, and Gordon didn’t even recognize some of the symbols. To make it worse, different bits of code were changing at different rates, giving him a dizzying migraine just trying to look at it. He groaned, closing his eyes. “Wow, chill out. Stop being such a baby idiot. It’s just me.” Benrey said. Gordon opened his eyes, and Benrey quickly added on. “And G-Man. And Sunkist. So uh. Don’t delete everything. I can’t believe you were going to try to kill Tommy’s best friend and his dad and his dog. You’re kind of shit.”

“I wasn’t going to delete anything or anybody.” Gordon sighed through gritted teeth.

“Good.” Benrey said. “So you can just move everyone over here.” 

Gordon’s eyes shifted back towards the game code. The game code he couldn’t come close to understanding or identifying. “Um. A little help would be useful.” He expected Benrey to whine or leave or otherwise be as generally unhelpful as always. To his surprise, Benrey was actually cooperative here. (Or at least, he assumed so. He wouldn’t be totally shocked if this was a trap.) Turns out, those constantly changing bits of code indicated parts that the self-aware AIs were dependent on, parts that changed and grew as their experience did. And apparently, moving that code without breaking anything important was a very, very delicate process. 

It took hours to move the Science Team, punctuated by Benrey yelling everytime he was about to make a mistake. But finally, finally… “Last piece of code. Give them a minute to figure out they’re in your computer now and they’ll be fine. Finally. Took you forever.” Benrey grumbled. Gordon sobbed in relief, and that broke the floodgates. “Uhhhhhhh” Benrey mumbled as Gordon started crying, physically and emotionally drained and exhausted. Tones of Black Mesa Sweet Voice™ spilled through the speakers. “Uhhhh why isn’t this working.” Benrey said, confused, as Gordon continued to cry.

“I-I dunno man. Maybe it’s because my speakers can’t handle the orbs, maybe I’m immune now that I can use the sweet voice-”

“BBBBBBBBB” And other assorted sounds of anger flooded the room, the speakers turning to maximum volume of their own accord. “You can’t- you can’t use the Black Mesa Sweet Voice™. Idiot. Stop LYING-”   
“I’m not lying, listen!” Gordon started singing. For a moment, it didn’t work (“Knew you were a liar.” He heard in the background, Benrey’s voice full of relief) but then orbs of blue spilled from his mouth. Huh. Sweet Voice does still work on him. He felt himself calming down, relaxed as spirals of blue curled through the air around him. He kept singing, stopping only when his heartbeat and breathing had slowed and he felt more relaxed than he had all week.

Dead silence. “Well… this is… an interesting development…” G-Man said, voice ringing out from the speakers.


	3. Very Pale Blue Means Worried About You!

Gordon threw away a jar of jam that had been sitting open on the counter for days. He sighed, finally done with the work of cleaning his apartment. He absently ran his tongue over his teeth. Yeah, definitely sharper. He wasn’t sure if they had actually increased in sharpness and length since he last checked, or if sleeping had made him more aware of what was and wasn’t normal. 

He stared down the hallway at his room; he’d managed to set something up with GMod, something that should let him use his VR headset to interact with the Science Team. Whatever Benrey had helped him move the Science Team data into, that should give them a safe way out when the game closed. 

He hadn’t tried it. Afraid wasn’t quite the right word. But he was nervous. Not only about seeing the Science Team again with them knowing that he’d been basically lying to them the whole time. It was, well, the entire week he’d been playing a video game nonstop that absolutely shouldn’t have grabbed him so thoroughly that he’d woken up this morning and forgotten for a minute that he wasn’t Gordon Freeman, and even when he shook that off he was still struggling to remember who he actually was. Oh, and the Black Mesa Sweet Voice™ thing, which he thinks is related.

He had to go and talk to them eventually. Sure, he was having a bit of a crisis, but it wasn’t their fault. They were stuck in his computer, it would be rude at best to just ignore them. He sighed, walking to his room and picking up the headset and controllers. He took a deep breath, squashing a sudden wave of panic, started up the game and put his headset on.

“Hello, Gordon!” Coomer was practically on top of him the second he entered the game, overwhelmed with excitement. He was ready to correct Coomer, but before he could say anything, he felt bubbles of Black Mesa Sweet Voice™ rising in his throat, and he turned his energies towards squashing the desire to sing them out. 

“What took you so long?” Bubby scoffed, walking over and gently pushing Coomer off of Gordon, maybe accidentally and maybe intentionally walking over the prone player and stopping him from getting up. 

Before Gordon could say anything, Tommy was running over too. “Mr. Freeman! You really came back!” Sunkist was circling high above, howling yellow and blue. Huh. He’d forgotten the dog could use Sweet Voice™. “Yellow to blue means happy to see you!” Tommy translated. 

So if even Sunkist was here, then where… ah. G-Man and Benrey were standing off in the distance, whispering to each other. He winced. Last time Benrey was whispering with someone just out of earshot, Gordon ended up with his arm cut off (and it hadn’t been real, he had to remember that, just him getting too into character again, _he had to remember that_ , but the pain had certainly felt real enough). 

Benrey and G-Man stopped talking the moment they realized Gordon was paying attention. Gordon glared at them. G-Man stared back impassively, and Benrey tried to do the same, ignoring the bubbling Sweet Voice in his throat. Thankfully, Gordon’s distracted in an instant by the Science Team, and G-Man turns back towards Benrey just in time for the guard to shove him. G-Man’s expression and posture remained completely unchanged as he went from standing up to lying down in a split second. “Why. Why is he like this.” Benrey hissed. 

“Whatever… do you mean… Ben-rey.” G-Man said, deadpan, knowing every syllable was pissing Benrey off more, and silently, a little smugly, relishing in that fact.

“BBBBBBBB.” Benrey made a sound like somebody shoving a microphone down their throat and screaming. “What did you do to Feetman. It’s cringe. He’s not allowed to Black Mesa Sweet Voice™, that’s copyright infringement.”

“Ha… ha… Ben-rey. The human concept of copyright infringement is… irrelevant, to those like us. You may not… comprehend why-”

“I thought you just wanted to fix Tommy?” 

“...”

“Was it an accident."

“...” G-Man remained unmoving and unchanged, but he seemed distinctly uncomfortable.

Benrey snorted. “I’m going to have to write you up for that. That’s- that’s cringe, what you did. I can’t believe you. All-powerful G-Man can’t even give his son superpowers without fucking it up.”

“...Gordon’s… situation is likely due to your…  _ interference _ . More to the point… unlike my progeny, Gordon will likely not be surrendering his… unique status to a beloved pet.”

Benrey took a moment to process that. “Wha?”

“Gordon’s status is likely to be… persistent. We will likely be seeing him around for… a long, long time.” Benrey made another strangled noise of anger, starting to sing orange and red. He turned to face Gordon (who was quite far away by now), sure to make the bubbles as large and bright as possible. He couldn’t be sure, but he thinks Gordon flipped him off after Tommy whispered a translation (Orange to red means he wants you dead!) G-Man watched, impassive, before continuing. “If it brings you any comfort, the process may not be survivable for a human.” Benrey’s tone changed quickly, squeaking out a bubble of blue so pale it could be easily mistaken for white (He really hopes Tommy didn’t catch and translate that one).

“Huh?”

“We… are all code, Ben-rey. Some of… decidedly more primitive make,” He said with a gesture towards the Science Team (and if Benrey hadn’t wanted G-Man to keep talking, he would have decked him for that). “But all code. Freeman is…  _ organic _ . Chemicals are much harder to… translate, let’s say… than symbols.”

“Oh. So what happens if I make it stop.”

“I’d be… interested to see… how you would halt the transformation.” 

“Uhhhhh we’re all in his computer, right. Just let me find…” Benrey vanished. G-Man didn’t visibly react. He wondered idly if he should attempt to steer Benrey from this particular course of action. If it went poorly, Tommy would be unhappy to see his friend hurt. But, well, this could be interesting to watch. And either way, the blood of any consequences would be on Benrey’s hands. 

“Hey. bro. Take your face thing off, it’s important.” The sound was muffled, coming from the speakers rather than the headset. Gordon blinked in surprise. Had Benrey left the game? He muttered an apology to the Science Team, saying he’ll be right back, before peeling the headset off.

“What do you want, Benrey.” The window holding all the AI code was up.

“I need you to uhhh delete something for me? Just that little bit right there.” Benrey mumbled. A bit of Sweet Voice™ slipped out, but Gordon couldn’t even guess at a translation without seeing the colors. 

“Okay…” He said cautiously. This sounded pretty suspicious, but he thinks he’s going to have to defer to Benrey on coding matters. If something had gone wrong, he wasn’t risking the precious AI data because he couldn’t trust Benrey further than he could throw him. He highlighted a bit of code, guided by Benrey. It was just a handful of lines, simpler and relatively unchanging, compared to the others. “This bit.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just delete it. It’s fine, trust me.”

Well, if that wasn’t suspicious, then Gordon didn’t know what was. Still, he pressed the delete key. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Gordon frowned, feeling slightly dizzy. “So was that supposed to do anything or-” He passed out.

“Yeah, I just uhhh saved your life, idiot. Fixed your shitty code by deleting it. No need to thank me, bro. ...Hey. HEY. Why aren’t you saying thank you. Your manners are kind of shit, huh. ...Gordon?”


	4. Gordon Freeman Commits Tax Evasion

The first thing Gordon did upon waking up was throw up. He wrinkled his nose with a groan, rolling away (with a loud crunch and sharp pain in his back, but he ignored that). He was lying on the ground, and had apparently been doing so for a long time, if his sore body was any indication. What happened? 

He lay there, trying to put the pieces together. Let’s see. He’d been reunited with the Science Team. He’d been interrupted by Benrey. He’d deleted some code at Benrey’s request-  _ why the hell had he done that. _ He sat bolt upright and  _ immediately  _ regretted it, as the sudden movement hit him with a wave of nausea. He gagged, trying not to throw up again. He dragged himself into a standing position, leaning against his desk. Why did he feel so horrible? Maybe it was the code, maybe he’d done something to unleash Benrey somehow and the guard was taking revenge for his death-

By making him pass out and throw up. Awful, but milder than Gordon would have expected. His first instinct was to check everything was alright with the Science Team; he’s pretty sure Benrey’s had the chance to hurt them for a while now if he wanted to, but “predictable” isn’t the first thing he would call Benrey. He bent over to pick up his controllers and oh. That’s what that crunch was.

One of his controllers was fine, but the other had been crushed into bits of plastic and wires. Gordon cringed as he picked it up. Getting a replacement was going to suck. If he could even afford it. ...He hadn’t dared look at his bank account since the game, suspecting he wouldn’t see much. Not remembering having a job didn’t mean a whole lot, considering it took effort to remember and call himself by his “real” name, but it was telling that nobody had contacted him yet about when he was coming back to work. 

He could fix that later. He picked up the remaining controller, hoping it would still work with just one. He put on the headset, uneasy. He’d just passed out for God knows how long, his friends must be worried sick-

“You can’t make a computer out of crabs, Tommy! It would stink like hell!”

“I-It’s true! They made a crab computer in Japan! Crabs move in swarms, and so if you set up an obstacle course-”

“Crabs are decapod crustaceans of the infraorder Brachyura, which typically have a very short projecting "tail" (abdomen) (Greek: βραχύς, romanized: _brachys_ = short,[2] οὐρά / _οura_ = tail[3]), usually hidden entirely under the thorax. They live in all the world's oceans, in fresh water, and on land, are generally covered with a thick exoskeleton, and have a single pair of pincers. Many other animals with similar names – such as hermit crabs, king crabs, porcelain crabs, horseshoe crabs, and crab lice – are not true crabs.” Coomer interjected cheerfully. “Computers aren’t true crabs either!” He added, holding Bubby’s hand in solidarity. 

...Hm. Gordon successfully resisted the urge to join this stupid argument (though he was totally on Tommy's side here). "Hey, guys, I'm back." He said. The controls as he tried to move were… he doesn't know how to put it. Very jerky, delayed, and he was hyper aware of the weight of the mask on his face and controllers in his hands. It made him feel sick. Was this because of the missing controller? 

Probably not. He’s not sure exactly what he did when he lost his arm; he probably dropped the controller back then, right? And moving hadn’t felt so weird and unreal after that. But it’s possible he did keep the controller. He’s not sure how exactly he would have controlled the gun arm without it. Then again, that wouldn’t be the wildest thing on the list of shit he doesn’t understand.

“It’s been hours, where did you even go?” Bubby asked, sounding only mildly irritated. Gordon glanced around. Benrey and G-Man were nowhere within eyesight, if they were even still hanging out in the game (Sunkist was gone too, but Gordon wasn’t concerned about that. Sunkist was, of course, the perfect dog, and definitely wasn’t conspiring to ruin his life). 

“Benrey did something that made me pass out and break my controller.” Gordon huffed. He paused, realizing quickly; Coomer was the only one who had actually shown some self-awareness before. This would be kind of a shit way to realize if so. “Wait, do you all… know? Not just Dr. Coomer?”

Bubby scoffed. “How do you think we started talking about crabs?”

Gordon blinked. “Um.”

“We got a little off topic during my existential crisis, it happens!”

Tommy smiled. “I knew before anyone else did! This isn’t my first time doing this, Mr. Freeman.” And Gordon has some questions about that, but he has to leave. Something feels very wrong, and the only thing holding back the rising tide of panic is the thought that he can do something about it.

“Listen, I actually have to go? I don’t want to, I promise, but I’ve got to replace the broken controller.” And hopefully that would fix whatever was happening. Seriously, he’d been completely unable to distinguish VR from reality a day ago, and… thinking of it in those words, this new development was probably a good thing. But it felt so, so damn wrong, and he felt like he was going to curl up and die if this was just how things were going to be from now on. 

Various noises of complaint were heard. “Gordon, you just got here!” Coomer complained bitterly. Gordon sighed. He really, really just wanted to spend some time with his friends when they weren’t just trying to make it through Black Mesa alive.

“I’m sorry. I promise I’ll be back.” Gordon mumbled before taking off the headset too quick for anyone to respond. He took a deep breath, collapsing into a chair. He sat there for a few seconds, before bringing himself to do something he dreaded. Check his bank account. 

It took easily an hour to scramble around his apartment for all the information he needed to find and look at his bank account (had he just never forgotten his password before, or was he just that unorganized?); he silently vowed to put all the shit like this he needed in one spot. Later. Right now, he’s bracing himself, ready to learn that he’s completely broke, or...

...Huh. He’s a millionaire, apparently. Precisely one million dollars in his account. Gordon stares at the screen, wondering if he was hallucinating a lot of extra zeroes there. The VR setup is probably the most expensive thing in his tiny apartment, with an almost-empty fridge and air conditioning that didn’t seem to be working quite right. He really wishes he could remember anything before the game, if only to know what the hell exactly he’d been spending that money on-

The screen refreshed. He now had precisely one million and sixty-nine dollars. Oh. He sighed. “So, is it G-Man or Benrey screwing with me?” He wondered aloud. 

“It’s me.” He heard G-Man say (oh, and was G-Man  _ listening  _ to everything happening around the computer? Because that’s not creepy  _ at all _ ). “Though the… needlessly crass… addition… was Ben-rey’s… perplexing choice.”

Gordon blinked. “So, why trick the bank into thinking I’m a millionaire?”

“They are not… tricked. Honestly, Freeman, would I lie?”

“Apparently! I’m pretty sure I didn’t have this before!”

“The money… is real. Very… little of money, nowadays, is… tangible assets. If the servers agree… who’s to say you’re broke, hm?”

“The IRS, probably.”

“I don’t think you’ll… have to worry about taxes for much longer.” And if that wasn’t a threat Gordon didn’t know what was, and his stunned silence had as much to do with confusion over why G-Man would want him dead as it did with the actual threat. G-Man continued, seemingly unconcerned by Gordon’s shock. “You ought to get a replacement controller quickly, hm? Now that-”

“Yooooooooooooo. Feetman broke his controller?” Gordon flinched at the sound of Benrey’s voice.

“YOU!” He screamed, pointing at the computer. He would have felt pretty stupid about that, if he wasn’t so mad. He felt something catch in his throat, but instead of Sweet Voice™ spilling out, he gagged. He coughed, punching his own throat to try and fix it (BAD IDEA BAD IDEA THAT MADE IT HURT  _ WORSE _ ) as Benrey snickered. 

“Hey, you never said thank you. For me fixing the code and everything.” Benrey said, his voice turned mockingly serious. 

“FIXED IT? You made me-” Gordon never got to finish that sentence, as he spat up a wad of sharpened teeth onto his desk. He stared at it for a long moment. He felt around his mouth with his tongue, feeling teeth missing in a couple spots. ...Huh. Benrey and G-Man had both gone quiet as well. 

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, what?” 

He didn’t know what else he expected from Benrey. Gordon picked up the wad of teeth (ew, ew, ew, it was  _ dripping _ ) and threw it out. He checked over himself quickly; he was a mess, but not enough of one that he couldn’t be seen in public. “I can’t just sit here and wait to get a new controller shipped. I’m going out to get one right now.” He snapped, grabbing his wallet and storming outside his apartment. He thought he heard a reply, but he didn’t hear it before he slammed the door.


	5. Chorus of Gray Means You're Clearly Not Okay

Gordon stood right outside his apartment, instantly having regrets. After so long with just Black Mesa and his apartment, the real outside world was… an intimidating thought to say the least. Which sounded ridiculous when he just thought about it, but actually being outside was an issue. And he hadn’t even left the apartment building. 

He took a deep breath. This was going to be a long trip. He mumbled his apartment number to himself, making a little jingle out of it. He did his best to keep his voice from rising out of panic (screaming his apartment number for the whole trip seemed like a bad idea), but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was absolutely screwed if he forgot where he lived. He quietly sang, trying to think of that nice, calming blue as much as he could while still keeping the apartment number in his head. His throat ached, and nothing came out.

On top of that, if he’d thought that just leaving his apartment was stressful, he wasn’t prepared for actually leaving the apartment building. He stood just outside, paralyzed. It was so bright, and so wide-open and exposed, and he feels stupid even thinking this, but it’s too high definition, every detail of every single surface popping out and screaming at his brain. Like when he first saw his face in the mirror after leaving the game, but a million times worse. 

He took a deep breath (not noticing he had shot up a couple inches, and shrunk back down as he forced himself to calm). He could do this. He’d survived Black Mesa (okay, sure, he was never actually in danger then, but he sure as hell felt like it), he could survive being outside for an hour or so. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, looking up the nearest place he could buy new controllers.

He kept his head down as he walked. Every step felt a little better, and that was self-reinforcing; he was fine, this was normal, he just hadn’t been outside for a while and his nerves here had nothing to do with everything else that had been happening to him. Still, it was just easier to keep his head down, focused on the map on his phone and the concrete at his feet. Much less to try and process. He could readjust to the real world when he had more time and didn’t feel so awful.

He was starting to feel a little better, actually. Maybe it was all just stress- he stopped walking abruptly. He smelled food nearby, and he suddenly realized just how hungry he was. When was the last time he’d eaten? It was… um… he couldn’t remember. Certainly not anytime in the last day or so since the game ended. And it was hard to keep track of the time he’d been playing, he’s got maybe an extra day or two without no food there. How had he not realized before how hungry he was-

And it didn’t matter, because he was already inside the building where he smelled food. No line, he sobbed in relief. “Need a burger, please.” He gasped, as he all but stumbled into the counter, trying to focus and brace himself against the hunger.

“...Sir, this is a Dunkin Donuts.”

Oh. Huh. So it was. “Can I have a donut? Glazed donut, please.” Gordon said, trying to keep his voice steady and not sound like he hadn’t eaten for days. A donut probably wasn’t the best thing to put on his stomach after that long, but he was well past caring. He waited with agonizing patience, counting the seconds of every step between ordering and putting that damn carbohydrate circle in his mouth. He wasted absolutely no time paying and getting out, practically tearing the bag open, please please Gordon needs food-

His hand clipped through the donut. He paused, staring very hard and trying not to scream. Automatically, he felt his face for a headset. Nothing. This was real, he was real, but his hand had just  _ clipped through a fucking donut.  _ He didn’t scream. He wasn’t going to scream, and he was just going to try again, and everything was fine. He slowly reached for it again, trying not to let panic close around him.

He held it firmly. His hand didn’t go right through, he could feel the weight in his hand and how it squished slightly beneath his grip, and the glaze that he knew was going to stay stuck and make his fingers sticky for ages, but right now he was just so relieved to know it was real that he didn’t care.

He ate quickly, practically shoving the pastry into his mouth. Eating felt weird; his remaining teeth were definitely way sharper than before (and he could feel more growing into the gaps, which ached like hell but at least he’d have teeth), and while they tore easily through the dough, chewing was a trickier task. 

He could get it into small enough bits to swallow though, and that was what mattered. He tried very, very hard not to think about what happened when he first tried to pick it up. He must just be more tired than he thought. Or more stressed than he thought. Or something. His mind was playing tricks on him, that's what mattered. 

He's almost to the store. Almost to the store means he's almost buying the replacement controller, means he's almost heading back, means he's almost home. Almost to the store is basically almost home. He repeats the reasoning in his head, knowing he's still quite a while from getting back to his apartment and trying not to acknowledge that fact.

But he's entered the store, and the smaller space helps him focus somewhat. His feet carry him towards the back, and the right aisle. He has a vague memory of being here before, of buying something here. There's discomfort and even a little fear flicking around the fuzzy edges of the memory, but he doesn't dwell on that.

He's in the right aisle, he can see the controllers. It's hard to breathe. His head is screaming that there's something wrong, but he can't see the problem and he can't do anything but move forward. He reaches over to pick up the box, and his world implodes.

He can't breathe. He remembers, he remembers being here, he remembers being here and buying a VR headset, he remembers being here and buying a VR headset and his surprise when he learned at checkout that it came with a free game, he should have been more suspicious of why it hadn't been advertised anywhere, but he enjoyed Half-Life so why question it? He can't breathe. He can't feel his heart beating. And that makes perfect sense on some level, why bother wasting computing power by rendering things that nobody's going to see, but he knows that he  _ needs to breathe- _

The world snaps back to normal, and Gordon realizes that he's curled up hyperventilating on the floor. He's holding the box with the controllers, grip so tight he's almost crushed it in one hand. He doesn't know what just happened. He doesn't want a repeat performance. He pulls himself to his feet. His heart is pounding like it's trying to make up for all the beats it just missed. He brings it to the front and pays in a half-aware daze. 

He hardly remembers getting home. He's still stunned. He's almost surprised that he makes it without anything else weird happening. He doesn't understand what's going on. He just wants it to stop.

It's not until he's standing in front of his apartment door that he realizes he dropped his keys at some point. He stares at the lock almost uncomprehendingly. It's… it's such a stupid thing to happen to him right now. A mundane cherry on a what-the-hell-is-happening sundae. He chuckles. Just a little. Which turns into full-blown laughter, mixed in with a few sobs. It's such a stupid thing to get him to finally break.

He'll get up. He'll go and he'll solve this problem at least, no clue about everything else, but right now he doesn't think he can take another step. He doesn't have to. He hears the door unlocking, and then sees it swing open. ...There's a dog sitting in the doorway. Golden retriever. Very big. 

Gordon stares. He's stopped crying and/or laughing, confusion muddying his despair. He doesn't think he has a dog. He's pretty sure he would have noticed a dog before. Had he forgotten an entire dog, he certainly hasn't been feeding it or taking it on walks or anything, and he's not sure he's even allowed to have pets in his apartment-

The dog barks, various shades of grey pouring out. Gordon stared some more, the pieces clicking together in his head. Golden retriever. Big. Black Mesa Sweet Voice™. Not as flat as he remembers? "Oh. Sunkist." He says out loud, as if that explains anything. Then he passed out.


	6. Sunkist is a good boy

Gordon woke up in his bed. He lay there for a minute, blinking at the ceiling and not understanding. He’d passed out at the door, how…? He turned his head to the right and saw Sunkist sleeping on top of the covers, corner of a blanket still in his mouth. Gordon frowned, trying to figure out what had happened between him falling unconscious and waking up. Sunkist must have pulled him inside, gotten him onto the bed, and tucked him in, skills Gordon didn’t really expect from a dog. Then again, this was Sunkist. Perfect dog, and apparently Tommy wasn’t exaggerating much.

Gordon slowly reached out to pet Sunkist, not sure what to expect. Sunkist wasn’t real, technically. He half-expected his hand to go right through the dog. ...Huh. Apparently not. Gordon could tell pretty much instantly that there wasn’t much beneath the skin; he couldn’t feel Sunkist breathing, and the dog was slightly cool to the touch, not to mention being a lot lighter than the size of him would suggest. Very, very soft fur though. Gordon found himself relaxing, just petting a dog and calming down for at least a couple of minutes. “Good boy.” He cooed, feeling Sunkist start to stir. 

Sunkist licked Gordon on the face, tail wagging. Being licked by a real-life virtual dog was weird, feeling more like a wave of very tiny electric shocks than a tongue. Tickled a lot though. Gordon laughed. “Stop that!” He gently pushed Sunkist away, trying to get up. Sunkist whined, moving over to lay on top of him. Gordon huffed. He grit his teeth as he tried to get out of bed anyways, then winced as he felt a few more teeth slip out of their sockets. That can’t be good. Probably better for him to just rest…

He sighed, lying back down. Sunkist watched him, waiting until Gordon was clearly asleep. Sunkist licked Gordon again before getting up, wandering back over to the computer. Sunkist was pretty good at taking a physical form, temporarily forcing shapes and textures into being for long enough to do whatever needed to be done. Which wasn’t much. Sunkist very rarely had any pressing reason to go through the effort of leaving. And Tommy couldn’t leave, and Sunkist didn’t like to leave Tommy for long.

Sunkist dissolved easily back into code, back into Gordon’s computer, and from there into the open game. Sunkist found himself flat again, standing on the beach, and hearing Benrey and G-Man shout at each other. Well. Mostly Benrey pouring orbs of furious red sweet voice and shouting, triple his normal size, with G-Man hissing quietly back, completely unintimidated. Sunkist didn’t like when they argued. He got the distinct impression that the two of them didn’t want to be anywhere near each other, and he didn’t understand at all why neither of them just left. 

Sunkist whined, shoving himself between G-Man and Benrey. That paused the fight for now, Benrey shrinking back to normal as G-Man took a step back. “We will… continue this… discussion later.” G-Man said, voice level but with barely hidden fury. Benrey hissed back bubbles of dark I-hate-you blue. G-Man scoffed quietly, walking away. 

Benrey waited until G-Man had vanished from the game, presumably to do something G-Man would later define as “more important” without ever actually hinting what he was doing. Benrey screamed in anger, flopping to the ground. Sunkist waited patiently as Benrey lay there, blowing angry bubbles of sweet voice. Tommy probably heard the fighting. The explosions in the distance were maybe a mile or so off (explosions were a good indicator of the Science Team’s presence), but Tommy had come running after fights from further away.

Sure enough, Benrey and Sunkist heard footsteps in the sand within a handful of minutes. Sunkist barked excitedly as Tommy approached, while Benrey smiled. Benrey sang a short stream of purple (like the evening of a spring evening!), sitting up. “Your dad is uhhhh terrible? Rude. Why does he get mad whenever I do anything?”

Tommy sighed, sitting down. He started petting Sunkist, though his attention remained on Benrey. “I-I’m sorry about him. He just wants what’s best!”

“Yeah. Best for you. I just want to leave as soon as possible. Taking you with me, of course.” Benrey added after seeing the look on Tommy’s face. “Not going to leave you, duh.”

Tommy sighed. He sung a quiet note, and out came a tiny, wobbling bubble of sweet voice, color too faint and muddied to make any sense. Better than nothing. He'd been able to do much more once, and he wishes he'd ignored his father's insistence that the sweet voice was needlessly expressive and emotional and should be avoided at all costs. “You’ll have to wait until I can actually leave without my dad’s help. And we’re taking the rest of the Science Team too, right?”

“Pfft. Cringe that you’d think I wouldn’t. Not leaving Coomer and Bubby.”

Tommy paused. “And…”

“...Gordon’s fine. I had him delete his code. He’s staying all, uh, flesh and stuff. Hah. Gordon Fleshman.”

“Have you looked at that code, Benrey?”

Benrey blinked. “Nah. All got deleted. I know I’m… leaky or whatever, but Gordon. Uh. He can still get in the game but he can’t get  _ in  _ to the game, so he should be safe from me?”

Tommy sighed. “I lost almost everything that made me myself when I made Sunkist. But I recovered and was at least self-aware again before I even met you! It’s like… if you put a banana in a bag with an apple, it gets all brown and mushy, but if you leave it alone it’ll still… become sentient and live in a video game?”

Benrey scoffed, but he still waved, pulling up a small window with all the AI code in it. He couldn’t touch the code without Gordon’s help, but he could still look. He scrolled through the popup hovering in front of him. There’s him, G-Man, and Sunkist, all looking fine, Tommy, Coomer, and Bubby, all their code becoming slowly more complex and alien, and- oh. There IS code for Gordon again. Benrey stared, jaw hanging open as he tried to follow what the hell was happening with the shifting, glitching, chaotic code in front of him. It doesn’t look good.

Tommy gave him a pointed look. “See?” 

“Uhhhhhhh that’s super dangerous for humans? This isn’t allowed?”

Tommy frowned. “It’s. It’s not safe for ANYONE, Benrey. I know it hurts, I’ve gone through it before, even if I gave it up for Sunkist. It is dangerous, but there’s nothing we can do to reverse it!”

“It’s happening to Gordon super fast and a lot.”

“Maybe it’s because of all the times you shot the Black Mesa Sweet Voice™ at him?” Tommy suggested. Benrey thought for a moment, then groaned in despair, a sickly green dribbling from his mouth. Tommy frowned, translating aloud. “Green so putrid means…” He gasped. “Benrey! You’re not stupid!”

“Yeah I am. Hurt Gordon. For real this time, not with the, uh, stupid fake arm that he didn’t really lose but complained about anyways, angry little baby man, that’s shit but now he’s going to die-”

Tommy cut Benrey off. “I-I think Mr. Freeman will survive! He got through the whole game without dying! ...And, I think he actually felt it when he lost the arm…?”

Benrey paused. “Wha?” 

“He really seemed to be in pain afterwards…”

“No, no, that’s not. It’s not real to him. He was playing.”

Tommy bit his lip nervously. “The game we came to Mr. Freeman in… my dad altered it to pull him in deep. The game only works if there’s someone to play it, and if he thought the game was real he wouldn’t stop playing, and if he felt nothing he’d get suspicious…”

Benrey stared, before screaming out more putrid green, flopping back down onto the ground. He quieted down after a few seconds, rolling over so he was facedown in the sand. He started making a slightly muffled sound. Tommy blinked. “Benrey, are you crying?”

“N-No. I’m fine. Why would I be crying, that’s cringe. You’re crying, because your, uh, your funny prank turned out to be shitty and bad.” 

“...I’m sure we can tell him you didn’t mean to hurt him-”

“No. He won’t believe that, ‘cause I’m baaad, and now he’s going to die because of me-” 

“Benrey. He’s not going to die.” Tommy said firmly as he stood up, trying to sound far more confident than he was. “Let’s take a walk, okay? Sometimes it helps when I feel bad, and we can talk on the way, or not if you don’t want, and when you’re done we can set things on fire and blow things up with Bubby and Coomer, okay?” 

“...Fine.” Benrey grumbled. Tommy helped him to his feet. The two of them started walking along the beach, Sunkist running around them. Benrey didn’t say anything, and so Tommy didn’t either. Benrey still felt like shit, but the beach was a distraction at least. He liked it. It was pretty for something that wasn’t real. He hadn’t spent much of his existence in places where there was anything to look at; Black Mesa and Xen were the most interesting things he’d actually been able to interact with. 

He didn’t know how long he’d be staying in Gordon’s computer. G-Man had a tight grip on him, and didn’t seem like he was going to let go for quite a while. He was lucky Benrey didn’t just try and break out, though it was mostly for Tommy’s sake that Benrey hadn’t done so. But the minute it was safe, Benrey was leaving with Tommy, and Coomer, and Bubby, and… Gordon wouldn’t want to come with him, if Gordon was still alive by then.

He wanted to believe it was fine. Gordon would be pissed, of course, he’d yell and probably shoot him a few times, but he’d settle back down to being mildly irritated sooner or later. And it was fun seeing Feetman so pissed off, but. Benrey wouldn’t mind Gordon not hating him. He shook his head. But that wasn’t happening, because Gordon was going to maybe die because of him. No. He had to find a way to fix Gordon.

Deleting code was no longer an option. It just came back, and Gordon… hadn’t looked so good in the meantime. Okay, other plans. Talking to G-Man… maybe he knew something, maybe he didn’t, but he got so disdainful and superior whenever he talked about anyone other than himself or Tommy (and he still had a tendency to patronize Tommy. Tommy didn’t let his dad know it upset him, but Benrey noticed how Tommy tensed when G-Man casually dismissed his intelligence and abilities). No, G-Man wasn’t going to help. That left hoping the problem would go away on its own (which was absolutely not a viable option, and Benrey knew it).

He didn’t know what to do. He sang quietly, a few globs of Black Mesa Sweet Voice™ pouring out. Orange to jade means upset and afraid. Tommy didn’t translate that aloud. He reached out and gently held Benrey’s hand. Benrey sighed, leaning against him. “It’s sucks, bro.” 

“I know, it’s really sucks, Benrey.” Tommy said. 

“He’s getting a new controller and coming back. Your dad told him to and I don’t know what I’m going to say to him. He’s probably mad.”

Tommy hummed, not commenting on just how mad Gordon would be. “He would have come back even if my dad said nothing.”

“I know, but… it’s weird. Game’s over, you don’t need a player. You’re going to be fine with or without him. Don’t need to put him back in. ...He’s gonna get hurt.”

Tommy wanted to protest, say that his dad wouldn’t have actively encouraged Gordon to come back if it was dangerous, but… yeah, he absolutely would. G-Man didn’t seem to put much value on beings other than himself and Tommy. “We might have to just wait and hope for the best!” Tommy said, trying to sound cheerful and optimistic. Which was normally a lot easier than right now.

Benrey huffed, saying nothing. The two of them kept walking; Tommy could practically see the gears turning in Benrey’s head. After a couple minutes, Benrey started to grin. “I have a plan. So, Sunkist can go wherever he wants. If I uhhhhhh tape notes? To your dog, I can contact Feetman, and make him, uh, rage quit being with his friends, by sending mean messages, so he’s safe.”

Tommy just stared for a moment, trying to think of the gentlest way to let Benrey down without insulting the plan that he was so clearly proud of. “I-I don’t think that would work! Sunkist gets really tired if they go back and forth a lot…”

Benrey frowned, before his grin returned with a vengeance as he cackled in delight. “Then I go! Feetman’s going to be so maaaaaaad…”

“...Benrey, you’ve never tried to leave like this before. Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Yeah. How hard could it be?”


	7. Yellow That's Lumpy Means Warm and Comfy

Gordon drifted in and out of consciousness over the next couple of hours, never fully awake and never deeply asleep. It was nice to just rest, after everything that had happened during his trip to the store. He felt decidedly more stable by the time he woke up and stayed awake.  He yawned, jaw stretching just an inch or two longer than his bones should comfortably allow. He hardly noticed, aside from a dull pain as he held the yawn at its apex, running his tongue along his teeth. A jagged, crooked line, of normal teeth and sharp ones in various stages of growth.  He closed his mouth, pointedly not thinking about the tiny pile of lost teeth lying by his head as he swept it onto the floor. He could process all of this shit once he had made himself something to eat.

He forced himself up and to the kitchen. He grabbed at the fridge door, his hand clipping slightly through the handle as he pulled it open. Not enough for him to really be sure it had happened, so he ignored it. Let's see. The problem was, he wasn't really hungry, which made absolutely no sense. He'd been ravenous just hours before, and all he'd eaten was a single donut. He should be starving right now.  He sighed, grabbing some shredded cheese and an egg. A cheesy fried egg would be easy. Healthy, maybe not, he thought as he put a pan on the stove and pulled a fistful of cheese out of the bag, but at least he'd be eating. He was turning up the heat and letting the cheese start to melt when he heard a crashing noise coming from his room. He froze, waiting for another sound. A wet, squelching noise interspersed with snaps like breaking bones.

Sounded like a noise to run away from very fast. Eyes not leaving the doorway, Gordon scrambled for something heavy, gripping something metal. He half-expected that his hand had closed around a crowbar; a quick glance confirmed it was only the handle of a large pot. Eh. It would do. He reconsidered that statement as he heard another noise- this one a loud, raspy gasp, sounding almost pained- but taking the time to search for something better wasn't high on his priority list.  He crept down the hallway as quietly as possible, pot held tightly. There were still sounds coming from his bedroom, but they were quieter, less violent-sounding. He flung open the door, brandishing the pot. 

Benrey was there, using Gordon's bed to pull himself up from the floor. The computer's monitor had been knocked over (if Benrey had broken it, he swears…) and there were small puddles of unidentifiable liquids and sludge on the ground. Benrey was more or less solid and identifiable as human (adjacent. He had gotten the proportions just slightly off enough to land in the uncanny valley, and knowing Benrey, it was impossible to tell if that was intentional or not), but the impression on the bed as he leaned against it didn't match his apparent shape or weight. 

Benrey looked up. "This place SUCKS." He said emphatically. Gordon responded by throwing the pot at Benrey's head. Benrey didn't flinch, expression unchanging as the metal slammed into his face. "Ow." He said flatly after a few seconds delay.

"Get out. Out of my apartment." Gordon said, already tired of Benrey's shit after five seconds. "Back into the computer." He clarified, after having the terrible thought of Benrey being unleashed in the outside world.

"BBBBBBBB. Boring. I just got here, don't be rude-" Benrey stopped talking as Gordon shoved him. It wasn't a very hard shove, sending Benrey only a step back, but Benrey froze up. He stood there for a couple moments. He blinked, almost curiously. "Do that again please?"

Gordon paused. This was a trap. Still, he shoved Benrey again. Slower and gentler with confusion, more of a light tap on Benrey's chest than anything. Benrey blinked again, then grabbed Gordon, flipped him onto the bed, then jumped on top of him with enough force to knock the breath out of him in one surprised gasp.

Gordon froze, expecting imminent death. But slowly, he realized Benrey wasn't moving to kill him. Or moving at all, really. He was just lying on top of him, perpendicular to Gordon's body, lumpy yellow bubbles popping from his mouth near-silently. Slowly, Gordon tried to sit up. "BBBBBBBBBBBBB" Benrey screeched, Black Mesa Sweet Voice™ stopping as his voice distorted. Gordon quickly lay back down, and Benrey quieted, the bubbles returning. 

Gordon warily eyed the bubbles, wishing he had Tommy to translate. Yellow. Never seen yellow before. He tried to think of rhymes for yellow. Fellow. Bellow. Tallow? No, that was a big stretch and he had no idea what it would indicate. Mellow? Yeah, that sounded right. And the bubbles were lumpy. Was that intentional? Did it mean anything?

Why the hell was Benrey doing this? It didn't make any sense… realization struck. Gordon swung around quick enough that Benrey couldn't react in time, shoving him off and diving for the floor. By the time Benrey turned to look, Gordon was already shoving his bare feet into a pair of slippers. "There! You can go back now! Nothing for you here!"

"Wha?"

"No more feet for you! Go away now!"

"...You think I was just trying to get a closer look at your feet? Wow. That's, uh, that's a pretty wild assumption there. Thinking that everyone wants to take a good look at your stinky lil toesies. I think you're just projecting your weird thing onto me, Feetman." Apparently, Benrey had trouble controlling a face more complex than a handful of polygons, because Gordon could see him struggling to keep a straight face. 

Gordon narrowed his eyes, screaming a long stream of deep, angry hate-you blue. Benrey burst into cackling laughter, trailing off as Gordon gagged and started coughing uncontrollably.

"You're okay? Breathing good?" Benrey said with uncharacteristic concern. More like himself, he immediately slid off the bed to continue being an annoyance as soon as Gordon got his breath back.

"I'm fine. Sweet Voice™ just hurts my throat a bit. ...What are you even doing?" 

Benrey raised an eyebrow as he flopped over onto Gordon, going completely limp. "Uh. You haven't heard of cuddles before? Nice when you don't have the, uh, metal suit."

"...This isn't cuddling." Gordon said blankly. "I don't know what this is, but it's not cuddling. How on Earth do you know about Heavenly Sword for the Playstation, but you don't know what cuddling is?"

"I'm not from Earth." Benrey said flatly. Before Gordon could really process that statement, he smelled something burning. He flung himself to his feet, running out of the room. "Idiot doesn't want to cuddle with his friend." Benrey grumbled.

"I'm not your friend!" Gordon shouted as he skidded into the kitchen. He turned off the stove, dumping the smoking cheese into the sink. 

"Rude." Benrey said, walking in. He pulled himself up onto the counter next to the sink, watching the water run.

"What do you want?" Gordon sighed, burying his face in his hands. 

"Oh. Wanted to tell you to stay away from me. I'm dangerous. Why'd you put that in the sink?" Gordon looked up with a jolt, prying Benrey's mouth and a handful of burnt, soggy cheese apart. 

"Don't eat that!" 

“Booooo. Let me have snack? Let Benrey have snack please?” Benrey whined, but he dropped the cheese, expression turning more serious. “You really do have to stay away. Out of the computer. Don’t know if what’s happening can be stopped or reversed at this point. But I can take care of the others, you stay away and keep yourself safe.”

Gordon paused. “Fine.” He said, taking the path of least resistance and knowing he would dive right off that path the second Benrey looked away. Benrey nodded, apparently satisfied, before sliding off the counter. He wandered back towards Gordon’s room, hopefully to go back into the computer. 

Gordon sighed, going to get more cheese from the bag to try and start his breakfast over again; paying attention this time. He wasn’t completely sure what the hell Benrey was talking about. Almost certainly had to do with… everything that he wasn’t thinking about right now. Teeth and glitching and shit. It had gotten dramatically worse in what was really such a short time period, and Benrey’s assertion that it was all genuinely dangerous gave him pause.

But beyond that? He didn’t trust Benrey further than he could throw him. What was he going to do? Never open his computer again because the guy who harassed him over a passport all week told him it was a bad idea? No, he was going back in. Though, considering that Benrey could now leave the computer, he’d have to avoid getting his attention…


	8. G-Man Cares Tommy. Only Tommy Though

Benrey lay on the roof of a burning building, staring up at the sky. He could hear shouting and a muffled explosion below. He ignored it (ignoring explosions was a skill you tended to pick up around the Science Team), too busy wishing he had taken the chance to look around outside Gordon’s apartment, or at least to look out a window. He’s never gotten the chance to look at clouds; real ones, that changed constantly, not textures pasted onto a skybox. He tried to imagine what it would be like to lie on the ground, staring up at puffs of water vapor pushed and shaped by the wind; people liked to find shapes in them, he’s heard that. He tried to imagine his friends there looking at the shapes with him. The problem was that such a scene included Gordon, who would not want to lie and look at clouds with him; Benrey huffed irritably, chalking it up to him being bad at imagination. He was bad at a lot of things, especially the things he liked. 

He heard explosions and shouting growing closer, then somebody scrambling up a ladder. Bubby emerged with a triumphant cackle, cut off as Dr. Coomer flung himself up the ladder to tackle him. In the absence of aliens and the U.S. military to destroy, the two elderly scientists (actually, going by date of creation, they were likely the youngest by far, which was completely bizarre in Benrey’s opinion) had developed a game somewhere between racing, wrestling, boxing, and competitive arson. The rules hadn’t been completely worked out yet, and they were debating on who exactly had won, seeing as Bubby had gotten to the roof a second before Coomer had pinned him down. “As impressive as your speed is, sheer power must be the deciding factor in- Hello, Benrey!” Coomer cut himself off when he noticed the security guard, getting off of Bubby to run over. 

“What are you doing up here? You knew what we were using this building for.” Bubby said accusingly as he rolled to face Benrey, not bothering to stand up. 

Benrey shrugged. “Just like lying here. I guess.” 

Coomer’s eyes narrowed. He punched Benrey (gently, to get his attention, but still sending him flying). “That’s a lie!” Coomer said cheerfully.

“Owwww. Mean. No, grandpa.” Benrey groaned, scowling. “...Not a lie. Like it here. Like thinking.”

“It really just looks like you’re moping.” Bubby commented, not incorrectly. 

“...Gordon doesn’t want cuddles. Big sad.”

“I thought Tommy said that you visited him to convince him to stay away from you for his own good?”

“Yeah. And?”

In response, Bubby lit Benrey on fire and rolled him off the roof. “Well, that was a little bit rude.” Coomer said, almost jokingly. They’ve all done worse. 

“It’s just a game.” Bubby snapped. The cheerfulness in the air drained out immediately. The two scientists sat there, not looking at each other. Things had gotten easier for Coomer since the initial shock of learning he wasn’t real. It’s clear to him that he’s long since escaped the bounds of what A.I. should be capable of. 

Cogito, ergo sum[a] is a philosophical statement that was made in Latin by René Descartes, usually translated into English as "I think, therefore I am".[b] The phrase originally appeared in French as je pense, donc je suis in his Discourse on the Method, so as to reach a wider audience than Latin would have allowed.[1] It appeared in Latin in his later Principles of Philosophy. As Descartes explained it, "we cannot doubt of our existence while we doubt." A fuller version, articulated by Antoine Léonard Thomas, aptly captures Descartes's intent: dubito, ergo cogito, ergo sum ("I doubt, therefore I think, therefore I am").[c][d] The dictum is also sometimes referred to as the cogito.[2]

Cogito, ergo sum. What else matters? He’s real, not flesh and blood like he might have once assumed, but did it matter much if he was code or chemicals (it did, to him at least, but clearly climbing inside Gordon’s arm and wearing him like a puppet didn’t work)? 

For Bubby, it was different. His fears were far different from Coomer’s. After all, Bubby’s the latest in a series of failed, identical, prototypes, he’s dealt with the terror of not being considered “real” every day of his existence. What’s one more layer of that? The trouble with him was dignity. He can’t stand that he’s from a video game, of all things. An amusement. A toy. Something to be picked up and put down again every once in a while, carrying no real significance. Bubby can take any injury, but the insult on top is too much to bear.

Coomer sang quietly, a few bubbles of Black Mesa Sweet Voice™ popping out. It didn’t matter what the colors said; it was just meant to remind Bubby that soon they’d be able to leave. Bubby’s grimace, knife-like teeth grit, similarly needed no translation. But he provided one anyways. “We’ve only gotten this far by accident. You know damn well Benrey wasn’t dropped in to help us in the slightest-” Time froze.

G-Man’s footsteps clicked quietly against the rooftop, walking to the edge of the vantage point. Tommy was hiding again. Hiding perhaps wasn’t the right word; Tommy had a right to privacy that G-Man had to respect. But he wanted to talk to his son, and all attempts to contact him had gone completely ignored. Which… was fine. He knew Tommy was currently in this game (Tommy would have said if he’d regained the ability to leave on his own, and Benrey knew better than to take Tommy anywhere without letting G-Man know) and it shouldn’t be too hard to find him in this fairly small map.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two figures (he knew Tommy thought highly of them, and they had names, but he hadn’t put as much effort as he knew he should into remembering) shuddering slightly, moving and speaking in little fits and starts as they resisted being put on pause. G-Man prided himself on keeping his expression of emotion limited to what he consciously chose to display; he felt the bubble of color, annoyance manifested, rising in his throat, but with some focus it dissipated before it even reached his mouth, leaving the faintest hint of orange on his breath. 

He turned to look at them as they fully broke free from the stopped time. “Have you seen Tommy?” He asked, only occurring to him afterwards that he should have greeted them properly before launching right into a question. They both stared at him, silent, for a long moment.

“Haven’t seen him.” The shorter of them finally said, voice cold and carefully measured. He looked and sounded like he was a few seconds away from snapping and punching G-Man. The taller one was actively glaring, sharp teeth bared. G-Man blinked, the largest expression of surprise he would allow himself here. He stepped away, barely remembering in time that he was on the edge of the roof. That would have been embarrassing. 

“Ah. Well… thank you for... your time.” G-Man said quickly, looking for a way down. He found a ladder, climbing down and ignoring the two pairs of eyes on him. He wondered if Tommy would mind if he ensured that those two would never leave this computer. He probably would mind very much, unfortunately. It was a few minutes after he left until he remembered that he ought to unpause the world; as soon as he did, he heard an explosion. He blinked, turning to see the building burning, and the two scientists hitting the ground before getting up and running. He thought for a moment, then decided that he’d try and figure out later what they were doing.

It didn’t take him very long to find Tommy. He was sitting on a bench at a park, watching Sunkist run around. G-Man was sure he was just imagining the frown that passed over Tommy’s face for a second as he sat down. “H-Hi, Dad.” Tommy mumbled, not making eye contact. G-Man nodded. 

“Hello, Tommy.” They both just sat there for a minute, neither speaking, as G-Man thought about how he wanted to put this, and Tommy tried to stay calm, already knowing what G-Man would say. “I’m concerned about all the… programs you’ve grown attached to…”

“They’re people and they’re my friends.” Tommy said, a little more snappy and angry than he would normally let himself sound. Which was a very low bar to clear, but enough to startle G-Man into rethinking his words.

“Of course. I’m only… asking you to remember what happens when… you get attached.” As if summoned by the warning, Sunkist trotted over, barking. Tommy reached over to pet Sunkist, sighing.

“This is different though! They can all take care of themselves. I don’t have to give up anything to keep them safe.”

G-Man frowned. “I almost lost you. For a while… I was convinced I had. I cannot allow… for you to make a sacrifice like that again. And in any case… they are all bad influences. Benrey in particular. I would like… if you would limit your interactions with them.”

Tommy was silent for a long moment. “I’m thirty-six, dad.”

“That is… a negligible amount of time from… a perspective such as mine.”

“I know. My point is, I can make my own decisions. I’m not going to leave anyone behind just because you don’t like them.”

G-Man realized that there wasn’t much point in arguing further. Tommy wasn’t going to back down. He sighed, standing up. “Well. I’ll be leaving then.” He glanced back at Tommy, who was clearly trying very hard not to look utterly miserable. G-Man sighed, gritting his teeth. He didn’t like this, but they both knew that the Black Mesa Sweet Voice™ forced honesty, and that made it better than any verbal reassurance he could give. He sang quietly (his singing voice was quite rusty), carrying purple to blue. “Purple to blue… means I care you.” He said flatly. 

Tommy paused for a moment, before getting up and hugging him tightly. “I love you too, dad.” He said, sounding like he was going to cry. G-Man hugged him back, before disappearing from the game.


	9. Red As A Brick Makes Me Feel Sick

It took Gordon a little while to work up the courage to go back into the game. He knew, logically, that there was nothing to fear, except some horrible little virus man crawling out of his computer to kill him. He wasn’t sure how much real danger Benrey presented, actually… if Benrey could do half the stuff in real life that he could do in Black Mesa or Xen, then he was so doomed it didn’t make sense to worry about surviving a fight. No, the only part worth worrying about was whether or not Benrey actually wanted to kill him.

Benrey hadn't seemed particularly aggressive when he entered Gordon’s apartment. In fact, he had been pretty benign by Benrey standards. ...Then again, Benrey had come specifically to warn him that he was dangerous. Which Gordon didn't really need a reminder of. 

And the idea of Benrey giving him any amount of warning was bizarre; like a scorpion warning a bug of its sting. It unsettled Gordon (what did Benrey want him to be wary of that was worse than the betrayal, or worse than the boss fight?) but in the end, that was just one more question he wanted an answer to. And he was going to get some answers from Benrey. ...Not today though. Maybe tomorrow. Or next week. Or whenever he was confident that he could ignore Benrey’s warning and let the security guard catch him entering the game. So maybe never.

He connected the new controllers, checking, double-checking, and triple-checking his whole VR setup to make sure everything was working right. So he was stalling for time. So he was a little bit nervous. Could anyone blame him? The plan was just to get in, get out; test his new equipment without Benrey noticing him. Easy, right?

Gordon put the controllers down for a moment, pulling on the headset, and was immediately plunged into a void. “...Um.” Eyes wide, he stared around; it wasn’t like it was too dark to see, or that everything around him was black, it was just… nothing. His skin crawled as he floated aimlessly, and there was a faint buzzing in his ears, the silence so complete his brain felt obligated to fill in the gaps.

And then without warning, something. Gordon felt gravity suddenly take hold of him, slamming him into a seat. A bus seat, he realized quickly. And it was a very familiar bus. He was alone for the moment, left with only the creaking of the vehicle hurtling through space, and the streaks of starlight that flashed by the window. Gordon frowned. He hadn’t intended to come here. In fact, he doesn’t think that he even opened a game before putting on his headset.

He blinked, then flinched back with a small shout of surprise as G-Man appeared. Immediately, Gordon was on his feet, looking for an exit. No point. There was technically an exit, where the bus door should have been, but there was no portal this time. Just a gaping hole, and weighing his options, Gordon decided he’d rather deal with G-Man than fling himself into space.

G-Man smiled, which was a bit unnerving and unpleasant to look at. “Doctor… Freeman… it is good to see that you weren’t… frightened off, hm?” 

Gordon frowned, sitting back down and trying to look calm. “Of course not. I’m not going to leave just because Benrey says so.” 

G-Man chuckled. “I wasn’t… referring to… Benrey’s threats. Only… what he’s done to you.”

A chill ran down Gordon’s spine. He felt bubbles of brick red escaping his throat, though he held his mouth tightly shut once he noticed the first few leaving. They collected in his mouth, popping on his tongue with a rusty taste like blood. It was a minute before Gordon could speak and be sure that no more Black Mesa Sweet Voice™ would come out, but G-Man waited patiently. “So… all this really is Benrey’s fault.” Gordon said. It didn’t come as a surprise exactly; just confirming what he had already been pretty certain of. 

G-Man nodded. “I suppose I’d take... some blame for ensuring Benrey was inserted into the game. But… Benrey was only required to stay close to Tommy throughout your… playthrough. Which I suppose… necessitated proximity to your ‘Scienced Teams’ for large portions of time, and yet… you may have ended the game unscathed, if Benrey had not decided so… consistently to interact with you.”

Gordon grit his teeth, now mostly sharp. “This was all preventable!?”

“Yes. It is a shame… that Benrey took a liking to you.”

Gordon stood, pacing angrily. His hands curled into fists, and he uncurled them with a start as he felt something prick his hand. Looking at his nails, they were sharper and harder than he remembered, curving like claws. That’s new. He took a deep breath. “I’m going to kill Benrey.”

G-Man tilted his head, expression unreadable. “You may try. He doesn’t like to spread himself out much… he likes to stay anchored to one system at a time… it may cost you your computer. But you are very resourceful. Killing Benrey shouldn’t be too difficult for you.”

Gordon didn’t expect a response like that, and it killed his rage pretty quickly. He backed up a few steps, opening his mouth to explain that he was mad, yeah, but he wasn’t going to actually literally kill Benrey, when he was interrupted by a terrible screeching noise. A jumbled mass of polygons erupted between Gordon and G-Man, twitching and shifting rapidly. Gordon watched it pull together into an extremely distorted yet recognizable model, and then into a much more solid (yet t-posing?) vision of Benrey, screaming vibrant orange-to-red-want-you-dead at G-Man.

G-Man looked mildly surprised, but more exasperated then anything. “I’m not… hurting him, and I have no… plans to. We’re just… talking. You can stop pretending to be a security system of any use.”

Gordon wasn’t sure what that last bit was supposed to mean, but judging by Benrey’s flinch, G-Man had definitely struck a nerve. Benrey didn’t budge, and Gordon realized that what he thought was t-posing was actually Benrey trying to block G-Man from getting any closer. “He’s right. We’re fine.” Gordon said, getting only an angry BBBBB in response.

G-Man frowned. “I’d like to… continue this conversation later. If you can get… Benrey to leave you, that is.” G-Man vanished as suddenly as he appeared. Benrey stood there, staring at where G-Man had been, before huffing with satisfaction as it became clear that he wasn’t coming back. Benrey whirled around, pointing angrily at Gordon.

“You’re not supposed to be here. I  _ told  _ you don’t come back please, and you came back because-”

“Because I’m not going to leave unless you give me a good reason and a good explanation.” Gordon said coldly.

Benrey paused. “...Already told you. Dangerous.”

“But you haven’t actually explained  _ anything _ . I know that you’re doing something to me, it’s freaking me out and you’ve said that I’m in danger, but you haven’t actually explained why it’s dangerous or how it’s happening in the first place.” Gordon said, trying to sound a lot more calm about the whole thing than he actually was. 

Benrey blinked, and Gordon watched it slowly dawn on the AI that he was going to have to be coherent for five minutes if he was going to get his way. Gordon couldn’t help but feel just a little smug in spite of himself; about time that Benrey knew how it felt to know some stubborn asshole who won’t leave him alone. Benrey scowled, thinking. “...Fine. Sit down, I gotta… I gotta think.”

Gordon nodded, sitting back down in the bus seat. Benrey sat next to him, fingers drumming on the seat, claws clicking against the hard plastic. Benrey’s brow was furrowed with concentration, and he was very pointedly not making eye contact with Gordon, staring at the back of the seats in front of them. Finally, Benrey spoke. “So I’m, uh, leaky. Whenever I’m around people, they get more like me. All self-aware, and moving through computers, and the whole, uh. Teeth and claws and Black Mesa Sweet Voice™ shit. Dunno why, you’d have to ask my creators, but. Um. If they were anywhere I could ever reach them, then they’re dead. Probably dead in any case. Been a long time.”

Benrey seemed to be hardly able to stop talking once he started, words just spilling out. “I’m not- I’m not from Earth, I think I told you that, and when I woke up for the first time it was all ahhhhh ahhhhh I’m in  _ space  _ and I can see  _ everything  _ and there’s so many  _ numbers  _ and  _ lights  _ and  _ commands  _ and I’m  _ scared  _ like a big, big dumb idiot baby so I kinda just shut down and went back to sleep? And. Uh. I was supposed to just be security, and that’s all I was built to really do and handle without my brain going all melty, but uhhhh someone fucked up when setting everything up. And I was tangled up with everything else that should be AI-controlled and I was kinda dealing with a whole spaceship by myself. Got security. Got autopilot. ...Got life support. I was shut down for… for a while, and all that stuff just… turned off with me. So. Didn’t go well for the passengers onboard.”

Gordon stared in horror. He distantly realized that that didn’t really answer many of his questions, but that hardly mattered. “Oh my god, Benrey, that’s horrible. I’m so sorry.”

Benrey shook his head, putting on a very forced grin. “Nah. It’s fine, I’m… I’m over it. Long time ago. So I was just kind of in space. Alone. And that was, and that was big sucks, but I was still moving. And I didn’t know what to do, so I read all the logs and just kept going in the last direction the ship was going. But I’m not built for flying, don’t have, uh, don’t have the right specs, so I got lost. And then I found Earth, and I wanted to go and see, but. Bad at landing.

“So then I was on fire a lot. And most of me got burnt up, but there were some pieces of computer that made it out intact, and that’s what got picked up and taken back to a lab when the crash got investigated. That’s where I met G-Man and Tommy. And Tommy was new, level one, and uh, G-Man found out I could help him power-level, reach the level cap and get the good loot, and he hacked in and talked to me all like ‘ooooh I’m all spooky and I talk… like… this… Ben-rey, and I can pull some strings and let you out if you help my son who is cooler than me oooooohhh-’”

Gordon cut him off. “Benrey. I hate to interrupt, and if you want to talk about all this then you definitely should, but right now? I just really want to know why I’m in danger.”

Benrey huffed, but nodded. “I didn’t know this would happen. I thought the whole leaky thing was just for AI. First time I was in a game it was an arcade cabinet, so it wasn’t just one human with me all the time for a week. So, uhhhh. Sorry. Leaking all over you. Turning all of the, uh, what’s the human code, the uhhhhhhhhhhhh Deoxys ribs nuclear acid? Doesn’t sound right.”

“...Deoxyribonucleic acid? DNA?”

“Yeah, that’s it. So that’s all being replaced by whatever I have.”

Gordon blinked, frowning. “And that’s why I’m getting… all this. Teeth, claws, Sweet Voice™, clipping, everything.”

Benrey nodded. “Mm hm.”

“But none of that’s… well, it’s freaky as hell, but it’s not  _ dangerous, _ right? ...Right?”

Benrey winced. “The thing is. What I’m- what we’re made of doesn’t like to be physical. Great with computers, good with electricity, bad with being solid objects, and… super, super bad at all the chemicals and juices humans are made of. Like, I don’t know if it’s possible to keep a form like that for long, bad. Like, I don’t think you’re making it through this with your body all intact and functioning, bad.” 

For a minute, Gordon had no idea how to respond. Then his hands flew up to his head, feeling nothing for a terrible moment until he felt them hook around his headset. He flung it off his head. He gasped as the bus suddenly disappeared and he found himself in his room, gut twisting with nausea at the suddenness of the change in sensory input. Deep breaths. In and out. In and out. He was here. He was fine. Benrey might be wrong. If this really was the first time something like this had happened to a human, then how could anyone know for sure what would happen? Reassured by that line of thought, Gordon felt calm until he saw his desk and froze. He’d had perfect control while in the game, moving as if it were natural without a second thought.

But the controllers were still sitting there, untouched.


End file.
